Oft times I wonder what we poets crave
Would it be wealth wrapped up with glory fame
If that be true our efforts we should save
'Tis not the way true po'ets play the game
If we as po'ets deal in muck and mire
And gloom and doom is all that we may write
Then we shall never light one's inner fire
Our po'etry becomes beset with blight
The poems we write should touch one's heart and mind
Should lift one's spirit reach within one's soul
Bring peace bring joy and comfort all mankind
This then should be our ever present goal
O! Muse of mine please walk this road with me
Let my poe'try be all that it may be